Of Free Will and Importance
by Unmistakablefear
Summary: The wind was damp. Fiona wondered wistfully for a moment if it really was possible for the wind to be wet. She decided with halfhearted certainty that it must be true otherwise, she would not be feeling it then. 'Maybe it is just my tears...'


AN: I do no own Zoids. Thought quite frankly I wish that I did! None of the characters are mine to own either. 

This is a fic that I wrote when I was in quite and bad mood and I find it interesting that I could write something so seemingly morbid about a show that was not meant to be morbid. So take it for what it is and say what you would like about it. I realize that there still are some things that need to be ironed out.

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OF FREE WILL AND IMPORTANCE

The wind was damp. Fiona wondered wistfully for a moment if it really was possible for the wind to be wet. She decided with halfhearted certainty that it must be true otherwise, she would not be feeling it then.

_Maybe it is just my tears. I have been crying for so long it's impossible to tell true dampness from dry anymore._

Strands of her golden hair escaped and flew across her face. Wet cheeks caught the strands and caused them to stick at odd angles some, even catching in the corners of her mouth. She didn't even seem to notice. Tears fell from her crimson eyes as she gazed upon the ground, immobile, seemingly frozen in time.

A fresh moist mound of brown dirt was piled there. Heaped in an endless disarray that for some reason made Fiona feel sick. Maybe it was the truth of what was buried underneath that made her nauseous. The fact that the mound had been placed there so unceremoniously when what it was covering was something so dear and close to so many people. What lie underneath was _still_ loved by so many.

Moments of obscure silence passed and still Fiona continued to stare at the pile, seemingly transfixed by its mere presence in its surroundings. Perfect manicured lawns stretched out endlessly around her dotted with weeping trees that swayed in the wind and similar mounds like the one that lay before her. But, the perfect atmosphere, intended to ease the pain of so many, was marred then by the dark weather. It was a fitting backdrop for the going ons that had occurred earlier that day. Black clouds, threatening to drop rain fierce enough to match the will of Fiona's own tears loomed on the horizon. All brought ever closer by the wind which was gaining speed with the passing minutes.

Halfheartedly Fiona raised her hand, brushing away tears that would not, could not be checked by her uncooperative will. Her thoughts began to slip to pointless ramblings of creative nonsense pushed to the brink of insanity by the ever-growing darkness. She sank to her knees, no longer, having the will to stand. The damp grass soaked through her leggings but she was already cold, she had been cold ever since it had happened. Blood running icily thin with the loss of something that had had such a momentous effect upon her life, which had been so small and obscure for so long. Quietly, just once, she sobbed, bringing on more tears, fast flowing and unwanted.

_So much has happened, so much is going to happen. Why did this death have to set events in motion that were not supposed to be? Why did any of this have to come to pass . . .?_

Thoughts escaped her as she forced herself to look up. Her crimson eyes, bloodshot and lined with red, fixed upon the stone that crowned the mound. In the dim light the marble faintly glowed white, a beacon and signal for what events were now behind them, now considered the past by so many.

"Van Flyheight," was what the entire inscription upon the stone read.

That was all it read but, that was all that was needed. Something about the engraving, the way the black letters, chipped from such a great piece of stone, glared back at her through the dark. Just the way it read, made the whole ordeal even more final. Fiona clenched her hands in her lap, suddenly frustration approaching full tilt. She kept expecting wholeheartedly for him to appear from a nearby tree, proclaiming to the world that it had all been some elaborate hoax.

But that didn't happen. Ever since they had lowered the casket into the ground, since the men had come and gone after filling in the grave, she had sat there, watching, waiting. A part of her would not accept the fact that he was gone into the obscure world that was known only to her as the "beyond" sometimes called "heaven" by so many. She had loved him too much for him to leave so quickly, especially after all of the times that he had told her, whispered to her that he would always be there for her that he loved her. His voice had held such conviction then, such promise and she had believed every word that passed from between his lips.

_In my foolish childish fascination, I believed him. What ignorance could have possessed me to act in such a manner?  
_  
Already, in her heart she knew what it was. She had loved him and that simple explanation alone was enough to make her deny the truth. The simplicity of the matter would not allow her conscience to feel at peace. Guilt had set in, taken hold and had twisted her thoughts until nothing seemed clear.

Fresh tears pricked the back of her eyes then, her chin dropped to the chest, harshly pulling her gaze from where it had sat for what seemed like endless hours upon the stone. She let the tears go, falling to her lap, collecting on her hands before lazily sliding across her skin. Quietly she sniffed and closed her eyes, wishing for the world to disappear within the dark that merciless instant in time, taking her to a place where it would all be over. When she opened her eyes, her hands, now wet with salty tracks, stared back at her. Feelings of hopelessness blossomed within her chest and she felt her heartache. It was all too real to be a dream.

"Why did you have to leave?" she whispered quietly to the wind.

Thoughtless silence responded, broken only by the rustling of branches, weeping for those who were lost and buried amid their roots. Again, she sniffed, more forcefully this time, grappling with control to take back some semblance of her emotions. Her jaw clenched and a sudden fit of anger took hold leaving all hope of calm within its wake.

"Why did you leave me here!" she screamed, tossing her head back so that her words carried across the lawns echoing the most within her own ears.

She sat there, breathing heavily, frozen for that moment in time, in anger, sadness, and a hopeless heartbroken feeling that refused to leave. Small splattering raindrops started to fall, cascading to the world in a flurry of fast movement brought upon her so suddenly that it was almost surprising. They struck her face, bringing with them a feeling of some normalcy. Realization set in for the first time, and she began to sob again, this time falling slowly to the side to let the soft wet grass consume her into the nothingness that she so longed to bring herself closer to.

"He's not coming back. . ." she sobbed bringing her dirt streak hands up to cover her face, "he's not coming back."

Farther off, a dark figured loomed bringing a more drastic graveyard feeling to the cemetery. Appearing like the fabled grim reaper himself, he stood erect, cloaked in black and seemingly hovering from where he stood. Passively he gazed upon the scene, his violet eyes emotionless.

"What a pity one of us had to die. A shame that he had to ruin what little I had and force me to the brink which ended, ultimately, in his destruction," he whispered quietly to the wind.

Slowly, he made his way forward, bringing a cold, satisfied feeling about him, so unwelcome upon the freshly dug earth. His heavy boots scuffed against the grass, marring burial plots with his slow procession forward. Rain splattered against him, his body protected by the cloak, his face shielded with its hood bringing his features into obscure existence. The affect caused him to appear as a black specter making his way across the lawn towards where the weeping woman lay still shaking upon her comrade's final resting place.

He stopped nearby the white stone, resting his fingertips against the marble glistening with the new fallen drops of rain.

_How amusing that even nature, in all its glory finds the effort to seemingly cry for the fallen hero among these poor and pathetic people._ Raven thought philosophically.

The stone was cold, damp with wet and yet, lingering warmth, almost pushed aside as falsely felt, brushed against him. It caused him to sneer, surprised that Flyheight's warmth could still be felt even in death. Typical and intriguing all at the same that, one man, could have had such a varying influence upon anyone's life. Then, Raven's eyes came up to gaze upon the blond woman, Fiona.

Words escaped him for a moment, unsure of what to say to someone grieving for someone he had hated. Fake words and emotions would bring her neither pain nor comfort. She seemed to be beyond help to anyone as he watched her. Even then, as he hesitated a moment longer, she did not even notice that he stood there, mere feet away from where she lay helplessly spread out before him.

"It's almost sickening to see only one crying so openly over his death after so many claimed to love him," he stated finally.

The rain dropped against them more fiercely now, twisting words and phrases until they could no be distinguished. He saw the woman's body stop shaking for a moment. Her head turned and she gazed at him, he could see now that she had not slept, had probably not left this very place since Van had been laid here to rest. She continued to stare, transfixed seemingly upon his very being, as it stood there so close to her.

_I wonder how she will react first. Anger no doubt will be the answer. I was the so-called "murderer" after all. How fitting that Van's only love try to kill me over his death?_ Raven mused.

But she did not react right away, she continued to seem entranced, frozen upon the cold ground seeming unsure of her own two eyes. He sneered.

"Raven. . ." she whispered her voice trailing off into the nothingness that was the wind.

"How observant of you," he replied.

Fiona's eyes gazed upon him now with a newfound clarity, fixed upon him in a stare that was like nothing he had ever seen before. It was a desperate sort of look that showed him how much Flyheight had really meant to her despite what had been shown to the outside world. Slowly, she struggled to get to her feet, scrambling against wet grass and stumbling more than once. Raven watched her then, passive and just a little curious. Moments passed in uncomfortable silence as she gained her footing back onto solid ground, her legs splayed somewhat apart, bracing against some unseen force.

"You were the one that. . . did this," she managed finally.

Raven laughed. "You guardian force members seem to be becoming more observant everyday, don't you?"

She did not seem hindered by his comment. Leisurely he let his fingers slide across the marble of the stone until they had fallen from the side, bringing his hand back to rest under his cloak.

"I want to look at you. . ." she whispered within the next heartbeat.

Raven tensed for a moment, taken back and unsure of how to respond. His hands balled into silent fists, unseen to her beneath his covering. To humor the woman could do him no harm at this point after so much had happened. It was only then, after this conclusion had been met, that his hands reached up and slid the hood off. Black hair fell across his face, having grown longer than before and his violet eyes were no longer veiled into obscure existence by a shadow.

Fiona stopped her slow procession forward to stare at him.

"You killed him. . ." she whispered.

Raven began to wonder then if events had driven this woman to madness. He laughed again and did not answer her, he felt no reason to.

Her face changed through the dark and he could see her becoming desperate suddenly. Taken hold of by some new unseen demon that had obviously been plaguing her for an undeterminable amount of time.

Anger, the simple reaction he had expected evaporated as she suddenly threw herself at him, her small fragile hands wrapping around the front of his cloak with unthought of strength. Both of his hands came up to protect himself from the coming onslaught but her fingers held. And it was there, she hung on to him, her eyes, wide with madness, gazed up at him through the dark. He became disgusted.

"Kill me!" she whispered hoarsely just as his hands attempted to pry her off.

He faltered for a moment, taken back by the bluntness of her request. Again, he sneered and roughly shook her hands, yanking her hold from off his cloak. She fell the ground in a heap, sobbing. Her eyes seemed to refuse to leave his face.

"Are you sure that death is the path that you wish to take?" was all he asked.

She did not respond, her answer was written all over her face. Through the falling rain and the dark he could see her. This was not a depression to be gotten over and she was leaving herself open to the fate that had presented itself to her in the form of another man.

_Love, what a fickle thing. The guardian force knows that I am hunting them down one bye one and this is almost too simple._

Slowly, Raven reached back and loosened his hand gun from its holster. He watched as a slow smile slide across Fiona's face.

"Thank you," she whispered a slow smile passing across her lips.

Those words alone were enough to shake Raven's resolve. How could a lifelong enemy be willing to have him kill them? But, thoughts on the matter escaped him as she began to stand, ready to face him. Her movements were steady now, sure and confident about what was to happen. She stood erect and faced him, her eyes closing. Almost instantly a serene look passed over her face, her head tilting back to catch the drops of rain upon her pale cheeks.

_It will all be over in an instant. She thought then to herself. To see his smiling face again seems all to simple a thing obtained by somewhat simple means. Closure and passing on will be obtained by the one who took him away from this world from the start. It only seems fitting that he takes my life instead of forcing me to take my own. For that, is what I fear I must do since hell has arisen and made itself into the form of this world that I used to love and hold so dear._

Raven snorted then with disgust and contempt. He was trying to bring his emotions back onto solid ground. His open hand clenched into a fist, grabbing at the warm air that surrounded him under the cloak. It was a struggle for a moment as he grappled with unwanted feelings before he brought his gun up, placed the barrel to her rain streaked forehead, and pulled the trigger.

The blast was deafening, ringing through the rain splattered air with magnified clarity. Raven watched with some satisfaction as her body fell backwards, crumpling to the ground on of the mound of dirt that was Flyheight's grave. Mud splattered her seemingly perfect porcelain skin, marring her beautiful existence as she lay atop the man she had loved with all her heart.

_She will be buried next to him no doubt._ Raven mused as he slowly he placed his gun back in his holster quietly already beginning to turn away.

_Death is something we all face in the end. It is just a pity she chose death of her own free will._

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AN: One personal comment I must make is that I made Raven a lot more cocky than I have in my other fics that I have written about him in the past. I don't quite know if I like it more or less. But, there are some lines of this work that I am very fond of so please let me know what your thoughts are! 


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